


ArlathanAU Drabbles

by MindTrove



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ABELLAN, Angst, Arlathan, ArlathanAU, F/M, Fluff, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9637952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindTrove/pseuds/MindTrove
Summary: The basket for all my one-shots etc for an AU where the veil fell but everyone survived.The Inquisitor works alongside with Briala in an uneasy alliance with Solas and his people to restore order and help in this transition with the veil gone and magic restored fully to the world.Doesn't follow much of a linear plot, some of these are prompts from followers so ya





	1. The First Meeting

“Everything must go according to plan.”

“Of course sir.”

“I cannot allow any more blood to spill, no more lives to be lost…”

“We would all see an end to this Solas, we understand the need for unity more than ever.”

Solas stared back at his reflections, at the elf at his side. The eldest of all the council members, Samran proved both a terror on the battlefield as well as within the court. Solas had no doubts the man was probably someone of notable worth before the rebellion, whatever or whoever he was however, the ancient elf would not relinquish. Perhaps it was for the best, he wanted to help, did not see himself above their descendants. Eager to help them through the transition of this new life, wishing to broker peace with their, what he hoped were soon to be their new allies.

“My course is filled with more clarity and conviction with you at my side lethallan, are Abelas and the other council members ready?”

Samran gives a single nod before following Solas out of his private chambers. Their new residence now held with what was once Skyhold, almost unrecognisable in the restoration brought on over the last century since the veil’s destruction.

“If you would Solas,” Samran called, following Solas up high into the highest reaches of the fortress. “What propelled you to hold the meeting in such a place?”

“This is where it ended, where so many things began…and where new world was shattered to bring back an old one. It seemed…appropriate.”

“Let us hope the Inquisitor does not feel otherwise.” 

Immortality had returned, along with magic. Yet it was still surreal, to see her walk through the eluvian, to see Moro was still alive after one hundred years. Accompanied by Briala, not entirely a surprise, Solas was glad she was keeping good company.

They all had their parts to play, all of them so lavishly dressed, more than he had ever seen her wear ever in all the time he had known her. The robes obscured her severed arm, and she walked with that similar command that embodied her during their war against each other.

An ignorant man would have no reason to believe it was her who had been defeated. Moro walked with head held high as she made fast sweeping steps towards Skyhold’s inner sanctum, her company walked three steps for her every two.

His heart skipped when her eyes turned up, he knew she could not see him from this distance, but the intensity of her gaze almost made him doubt.

The meeting would not go well he had deduced; he knew that look all too well. Like a boiling pot waiting to burst. She wasn’t just annoyed or upset, Moro was angry. He could tell it had been building up for quite some time, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

“Inquisitor Lavellan, Ambassador Briala, welcome.”

In this Moro was gladdened for both Briala’s presence and support, the woman was effortless at playing parts a saying the right word or phrase. Oh she would give her an earful of how she _really_ thought about them later, but in this moment, she could do what Moro wouldn’t do. Play nice, rapport, be anything but angry.

Angry, tired, confused. Too many feelings and too many thoughts that Moro refused to pretend she was able to handle. She wasn’t happy to be there, she didn’t like these people and she would let them know it.

It was her first time here, on land that wasn’t their own. Whatever this place was it wasn’t Skyhold, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth to see this fortress in this disgustingly beautiful image. It used to be her daughter’s home, and probably why she couldn’t bring herself to let the girl come with her. Not yet anyway.

“Ramia has had her home taken from her twice fold now,” Moro commented aloud when one of the council members foolishly asked for her comment on ‘Skyhold’. “One was burn to the ground, yet I can’t help but see this as the bigger insult.”

The elders looked about one another, her eyes hadn’t even deigned to look at them as she said it. She had no doubt they could feel the contained anger rolling off her in waves, an annoyance that also came with this new world if you were not careful. But the soft and deep tone she spoke with left them unable to know how to answer back. Briala would surely scold her later for it, Moro was already off to a terrible start. 

* * *

Abelas wasn’t sure whether Solas was delaying himself deliberately or not, but he knew the man better get to the assembly hall soon. He could only handle so much awkward atmosphere, people talking into their glasses of wine and avoidances to sharing the Inquisitor’s gaze for so long.

The sentinel’s eyes caught sight of one of the younger members of the council, lifting his chin to speak to Lavellan. An eager but soft look to his gaze.

“Don’t you dare Councillor Yeris…” he whispered, mentally praying the boy would change his mind and keep his mouth shut.

“So! My lady Inquisitor, it is to my understanding your people have had their immortality restored! How has this settled for you?” The boy is so eager faced it’s almost a crime to watch Lavellan paused her tapping fingers across her knuckles, eyes moving in the boy’s direction as her head follows. The stone cold iron grip of her features honing in on the boy.

“Knowing my expiry date passed nearly a century ago and learning it has not affected every single elf? That I could possibly outlive my daughter?”

Silence.

“It’s lovely.”

“I…I only meant.”

“ _Be quiet before you say something stupid boy._ ” Moro finishes, the elvhen falling from her tongue unexpected but having more effect on the embarrassed elder. “Sit in uncomfortable silence like the rest of them.”

* * *

“Apologies.” Solas voice rings through the hall, the collective sigh of relief from the council follows as everyone rises.

Solas is midway shaking hands with Briala when Moro is already pacing into the assembly hall ahead of them.

“Moro-, Inquisitor…”

“Let us settle treaties and settlements and be done. I have other people’s messes to fix.”

“As you wish.” Solas relents, nodding for everyone to follow as he finishes last minute details with Abelas. 

* * *

Solas had been with a decent amount of people in his life. There times when they didn’t end well, whether it was his fault or theirs. A great many times he would find himself in their company again, it would be this whole debacle of avoiding each other’s gaze and fumbling for how exactly to go about speaking to one another.

He wished Moro was like that, but she wasn’t.

No, every time he addressed the damn woman she would look him right in his guilty little eyes, at least that’s how she had described them that one time they had a little tiff years ago. He’d jump through a ring of fire for this to be some ‘little tiff’.  No, Moro looking his right in the eye, that typical look of hers that made you feel small and insignificant and over-thinking every single little thing you planned to say before you said it.

* * *

The negotiations had been exhausting, every turn tempted by the possibility of full blown arguments. It had been hours, councilmen were tired, Moro and Solas both were agitated and nit-picking everything the other said. Briala and Abelas were on the verge of leaving.

“Now there is the subject matter of the Evanuris.”

That took both Solas from his distracting thoughts as well the attention of every single elf in the room.

“We will need to prepare as their seals grow weaker,” Solas claims. “Building armies, making the most of resources, everyone will have to do their part.”

“We can send warriors and no more,” Moro interjects. “We need all our resources, you can’t have soldiers if we cannot even keep our people alive and well.”

“Inquisitor…”

“No, you have done enough, you have asked for more than any of you deserve.”

“This is not a trivial matter.”

“Oh, I’m not taking this seriously I see.”

“You are trying to divert.”

“Enough, both of you.” Abelas tried cutting in.

“I believe,” Councillor Samran called out. “This would be an opportune time for recess.”

“Some tea would be nice.” Briala added in agreement, eyes hard on the Inquisitor as she laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm ushering her from the room. Joined by Samran as they began a gentle rapport towards the table reserved for refreshments.

“There is still bad blood between you, if we are to move forward this animosity must come to an end Inquisitor.”

“He has nothing to say that I want to hear Samran.” Moro hissed, pushing away the tear and opting for the coffee beans. She felt no ill will towards the elf, it was him and Abelas who had first approached her on Solas’ behalf and she tried not to take her anger out on them.

She knew they were right; this had been the first time she had truly spoken to Solas in a hundred years. Neither of them had had any closure, for anything that happened between them.

Samran stilled Moro’s hand, a gentle smile tugged his lips.

“I know for your time you are old, you act more stubborn and set in your ways than you should at your age. But there is no hurry, allow me to bring him to you and speak.”

“…I promise nothing Hahren.”

That seems to please the elf, and Moro is left alone for what feels like way too many minutes. Hushed voices from afar and the growing echo of footsteps approach.

“Moro…”

She doesn’t answer him, but continues to brew herself her coffee, tutting every now and then when she does something wrong. Solas is quick to help, and he can feel the heat of her gaze on him as he takes the duty from her.

“I have been one-handed long enough to manage feeding myself, I do not need your help.”

“Forgive me…”

Moro rolls her eyes at how quickly he shies away, brings the ground beans to her nose as she grimaces at the scent.

“Elvhen coffee smells like shite, fix your relations with Par Vollen.”

“Well that possibility is entirely up to you, no?”

“Don’t get lippy with me.”

“Don’t be so rude.”

Her whole attention was on him now, a hand on her hip as she looked him right in the eye. Height would have been a wonderful advantage in this moment, Moro just had to be eye to eye with him.

“Considering everything that’s happened, me insulting your choice in beverages is the least horrible thing I have to say about you.”

“Moro please, I want us to move forward.”

“Why does us working professionally mean I have to like you?”

“Because clearly you hate me enough that it is preventing you from being professional!”

Moro scoffed, hand raised as she turned her head away.

“No,” Solas demanded. “You are not ending the discussion because you do not like what I have to say.”

His temper was flaring, the gravity of the situation weighed heavy on his heart. People suffering, old enemies lying in wait and the most trivial of all these matters being held back because Moro could not see past her anger.

“You have every right to your anger Moro, your pain…but it must be set aside for the people. Yours and mine both.”

“Why is it when you want to do something for the greater good, it’s everyone else who has to suffer? We have only just started to see hope for recovery and you would ask for them to give up their lives and every means to survive.”

“It will mean nothing when the Evanuris return, do not be naïve-”

“You think I care about them?” Moro laughs, the noise hurts something deep inside him. “Everything I care about is dying, because of you.”

“Vhenan…”

“No,” her voice deepens, he sees the tears that threat at the edges of her eyes. So much more lined and tired than he had ever seen them. “No, no, no, I would have let you take this world as long as she wouldn’t be harmed. You could take everything but the one thing you promised me you would never harm.”

“We do not know for certain if Ramia is still mortal Moro, there is still hope for her, I promise I will do everything within my disposal to fix it otherwise.”

* * *

“Is it wise to leave them alone Ambassador?”

“They’re ten feet away Abelas, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Every now and then Moro and Solas would seem in heated discussion, before it would simmer into a tenseness that could be felt in the entire hall and flare up again. They had gone on like this for almost an hour, but Abelas felt something shift in the air and there it was. What he had been waiting to happen, because nothing ever went smoothly for him since the moment he woke up all those years ago.

He had no doubt it was something Solas said, probably on off-hand comment or committed an insult just shy of too far, there were an inordinate amount of petty things Solas could bring up in his own well contained resentment towards the Inquisitor. All he knew was that he and everybody else should be running towards them as the Inquisitor began to attack Solas, a hand at his throat and her shrill shrieking shattering the air.

Abelas almost felt sorry for Yeris as he and another council member tried to pull the woman off their leader. He knew the feeling of being elbowed in the nose deliberately.

It’s not pleasant.

But what really caught his eye was how the floor beneath Moro’s feet crumbled and shook, before sparks of lightening danced across her skin in chaotic static spurts. It grew and fed off her rage as she reached for Solas again, missing him and toppling down one of the statues that decorated the hall.

Councillor Haron, Pailen and Athriel would need immediate medical attention. He was pretty sure legs weren’t supposed to bend that way.

There was more damaged after that, the magic manifesting fed, and Moro was too lost in her emotions to be anything other than confused and distracted. Solas for his part was just as shocked and confused, but still the man wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the woman even as he clutched a damaged eye, no doubt the first and only strike she managed to get on him.

* * *

“Have a meeting before they’ve had closure they said,” Briala muttered as she sipped her tea. “It will be fine they said.”

By the time Abelas had apprehended Moro and dragged her kicking and screaming out of the hall, all Briala could do was…laugh really. The place looked a right mess, councilmen in disarray as both Solas and Moro were taken as far away from each other as possible. When any alliance would ever truly get settled anytime soon was now even more unsure.

The ambassador sighed as she followed the sentinel and inquisitor out of the hall.

“Idiots.”

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

[You can find me on tumblr <3](mindtrove.tumblr.com)


	2. Reunion

“Her daughter seems to have a clearer grasp on the situation.”

“How so?”

“She has declined the meeting invitation, she wishes to meet you in a more informal setting before discussing any matters regarding the alliance and anything around it.”

Solas pauses, it is early, much more early than he is accustomed to. But finding rest in the last few days leading up to this had plagued him with restless nights and anxiety.

Solas had not seen Ramia for the same amount of time he had not seen Moro. She was, for intents and purposes he had seen himself as her father, and he knew she had felt the same until the war. Where they failed to be bound in blood they were bound in heart. A bond he had destroyed, just as he destroyed the love between himself and her mother.

He was terrified of seeing her again, she was a woman now, an adult. The Ramia he knew then would be an entirely different person now, and however she had chosen to remember him was impossible to know.

But if she wished to see him before any ceremonies, perhaps there was hope. It was too much to desire or expect, but a part of him hoped there was something that could be salvaged.

“She wishes to see me? Truly? Why…?”

“Perhaps…” Abelas began, “Word reached her of you and the Inquisitor’s…not so gentle start. She has the right idea to settle personal matters before engaging in any affairs with the council.”

* * *

A small banquet was prepared, at least he knows that is what Moro would have referred it to. Anytime he attempted to make efforts for her, miniscule in his mind but drastic in hers.

Solas loved Moro, and he always hated how hard kindness was for her swallow.

But this was Ramia, if there was any difference in their characters it was how they took to gestures of goodwill. Both knew they were fleeting, but Ramia was eager to enjoy the fleeting while it lasted, even when she knew pain may follow.

He remembered her disposition and weakness for bread, Abelas had chastised him for the unnecessary amount of varieties to feast on. But Solas insisted, cutlery of beautiful craftsmanship and honey sweetened tea waited for the girl when she arrived.

He was on the verge of chastising himself as well, for all he knew she hated him now, and all of this would have been a foolish waste.

But he hears the sound of light laughter, and he knows it in his heart that it is her so he rises. Swift and sharp, hands clasped nervously in front of him as he stares with anticipation and worry melded into one at the entrance of the ridiculously lavish garden.

His breath catches in his throat when he sees her enter. She’s dressed for the occasion, layers of thin cloth and puffed sleeves. Her curls are held up framing her face that has thinned over the years. She is still rounded everywhere else, still incredibly short, it’s much more obvious now as an adult. Her youth no longer a scapegoat for her size.

He stares lamely, Ramia always look exactly like mother while simultaneously not resembling a single feature. Piercing eyes, she didn’t know how to use, clapping in time with her laughter, those little things gave tribute to the Inquisitor.

She had grown, kept the glow and shine in her soul despite the tragedy of her life and he felt shame and love in equal measures.

Solas hadn’t moved from his spot, his heart skipping a beat when her eyes landed on him and the amusement slowly left her face. He waited. For hardened eyes and furrowed brows, a curled lip and a crafted insult on her tongue.

Ramia remained passive, her footsteps clicked across the marble deck as she approached him.

When they were a few steps apart she paused, waiting patiently, head giving a subtle cock to the side as she waited. For a response or a greeting to reach out to her, but none came. The hands he had fumbled with clutched at his shirt as he stared at her, the idea of her presence and the reality of it contradicting with the planning and preparation he had carefully crafted for both the moment and his heart.

When there was one breath of silence too many it all flooded back. The last time they had both stood within Skyhold when he said goodbye, the war, his failed relationship with her mother, all the pain and horror she must have endured as he tried to right his wrongs. All he could think as he looked upon her was how every wrong in her life, every mark of pain in her life he could trace back to himself.

He loved her, his da’len and he hurt her. Hurt her mother, destroyed her. He didn’t deserve this, this patience. It was a kindness, and he didn’t deserve it.

“Solas…? Hahren…”

“I’m sorry…”

The apology was barely above a whisper, his head bowed as he clutched harder at his bowed stomach. Neither of them realised he was crying until the harsh intake of breath, he saw her attempt to approach further and he bowed further. Another wracked sob leaving him.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He didn’t deserve her kindness or gentle gestures, but when small tender hands laid upon his clenched fists he couldn’t help but seek them out in turn.

Deep down, however undeserving. He wanted to be a father again.


	3. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, no linear plot, but if you've read any of my other stuff you know I got a big thing going with my Ramia and Abelas lol
> 
> So yeah, established relationship is established.

There was something thrilling in this, Abelas did not want to call it a hunt per se. He had always found that term crude. There was no hunt to this, she was not game to be caught and lauded as a prize once he had her ensnared.

Whatever it was exactly that had grown between him and the Inquisitor’s daughter, it brought a shyness in him and an eagerness held in check. If only to appear professional in front of prying eyes.

They had gone beyond pining and questions of whether these feelings were more than fondness and friendship. And once those feelings had been acknowledged, they had wasted no time confessing such things to one another.

Ramia couldn’t be subtle if her life depended on it, and Abelas was far, far too old for games.

He had also thought himself far too old to see and enjoy the thrill in a relationship kept confidential, in the preciousness of a stowed away token of affection. Most often in the form of little notes, sequestered in plain sight.

When they would share a smile in company that meant more to them than anyone around them would understand he wondered if she kept his letters. He did. Every single one. 

* * *

“You come to the Vir Dirthara more often than you used to.”

Her eyes glance in his direction for a fraction of a moment before they return to the book shelf, her fingers reading the spines as she searches for a particular novel.

“If I’m going to help Briala during negotiations and all that other stuff I need to get a better grip on the weird way you guys speak.”

She continues to be vigilant in her task even as he comes to stand beside her, a point of his finger after they click together shows her the book which she seeks. A low grumble leaves her as she glares at the row of books much too far out of reach, even for him.

“Wait a moment.” Abelas says as he reaches for the wheeled ladders that dot nearly every towering bookshelf. She thanks him and begins to climb, slowly, and he holds the ladder still to encourage her.

“Y’know it’s a good thing we legitimately work together all the time or else people might start getting a little _suspicious_.” She giggles.

“What is there to be suspicious about?” He asks, but his emerging smile calls his bluff.

Ramia has descended the ladder with her large tome in hand, pausing when she reaches the sentinel’s eye-level and matches his challenging look with her own.

“You’re right, nothing suspicious when nothing is actually happening.”

“Not to others no.”

“Oh no, to me as well.”

That gives Abelas pause, and he sees the cover fall and that hint of dissatisfaction in her gaze. For a brief moment he worries, looks around them to ensure no prying eyes or ears and sweeps her free hand in his own. Mindful he doesn’t disturb her balance.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asks; worry lines his face. “Have I been insincere?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

“What?”

A small smile creeps upon Ramia’s face. “You still haven’t kiss me yet” she repeats. “Relationships are always sealed with a kiss no?”

“I thought it was something serious!” Abelas whispers the chide, slapping the girl’s thigh in half-hearted irritation. Her muffled giggles fill the empty and quiet little alcove of the library they resided in. “Fickle you are, impatient.”

“Well for all I know you’re simply entertaining me!” She bites back, and despite the wide eyes and smile he can see the fear there too. “Is it my nose or perhaps? Or my gap?” she follows the question with a toothy grin to accentuate said gap. That she sees it as a probably deterrent for his attraction to her and not one of many pieces to craft and bring her beauty to life saddened him. More so that she tried to play it off as a joke.

She is beautiful, even before he had known her he had thought as much. But he understood, he had wounds of his own that had yet to heal when he looked in a mirror.

“I would be a hypocrite to insult your nose Ramia, would I not?”

“I like your nose.” She claims, plainly and factually. Speaking no more and no less as she presses a kiss to the bridge of it.

The contact is brief, but soft and it stills him. He will be harsh with himself later for kissing her back. Cradling her jaw before sliding those fingers to glide to the nape of her neck and deepen the joining of their lips. Swallowing her shock and sharing her hums, they tantalise his lips to press deeper. Lost in their joining to hear the thud of the book once in her hand fall to the floor.

She is unsure what to with her hands he notices, and that sign of inexperience compels him to retreat. A smile too hard to keep at bay when her eyes stay shut for a moment too long when they part, his arms ready to catch her when she falls.

“That was…that was well nice.”

Abelas laughs, his cheeks tinted as he bends to pick up her book.

“I hope that relieves any doubts you had about my sincerity.”


	4. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW-ish

> _“So much paperwork!”_
> 
> _“Well, this is what we signed up for.”_
> 
> _Ramia and Abelas took shelter in one of the libraries, mountains of letters, notices and other papers of import were piled high upon the table. When Ramia decided two hours was more than enough time to be deserving of a break she escaped to retrieve something for both her and Abelas to enjoy._
> 
> _Abelas had been so engrossed in the work, he hadn’t noticed she had even left, and was surprised to see her arrive with both wine and a light platter. He eyed the wine apprehensively._
> 
> _“It’s a weak one don’t worry, I could the whole thing and still see straight.”_
> 
> _“So it will be like sipping water.” Abelas joked, a small smile forming when Ramia mirrored him._
> 
> _“I think if we’re stubborn enough we could get this all done by nightfall, very late though.”_
> 
> _“But that will leave the last two days of the week free for me,” Abelas finished, rubbing at his eyes and mentally wishing it would wipe the exhaustion from him. “I appreciate your assistance Lavellan, you didn’t have to help. Or provide dinner.”_
> 
> _“Yeah well, turns out you’re not as bad as my mother warned you would be.”_
> 
> _“Oh? And what pray tell did she say?”_
> 
> _Without skipping a beat, Ramia takes a large sip of wine. “She said you were an arrogant, irritating little man with the personality of a stump.”_
> 
> _“That does sound like something the Inquisitor would say.”_
> 
>  

“And what do you say to that then?” Solas asks, his eyes leaving the map to listen to the Ambassador.

Briala, looks over the Brecillian Forest, index finger tapping against the table.

“The Brecillian Forest is Ramia’s little project, right down to the fauna. She will have the best knowledge on what the lost veil’s effect on the area has done, particularly on those ruins. She will not be excluded.”

Solas nods in acceptance. “I will notify the Inquisitor this afternoon, she will not want to be kept in the dark.”

“Your meetings together are becoming more frequent?” Briala’s lip quirks in mild surprise, falling quickly at the mirthless chuckle Solas emits at the question.

“Do not look so hopeful Ambassador.”

“Give it time Solas, me and the Inquisitor are not so different in these matters. She hasn’t had the chance to process it all, you haven’t had the chance to take accountability. If your relationship can be salvaged, good. If not, that is her choice to make.”

Solas did not argue with the woman, simply gave a solemn nod. Briala regarded Solas with something that was mix between pity and distaste. Her eyes roaming over the plans a final time before seeing herself out.

“It’s not as if any of us have body clocks anymore, we have all the time in the world.”

“You sound so confident in our chances against the Evanuris Ambassador,” Solas called. Briala paused, just as her hand had curled around the doorbell.

“I am confident in what _my_ people will bring to the war effort, _we_ are good at facing adversity and growing. The Evanuris are just another chapter, we haven’t reached our epilogue.”

* * *

“I came to the Brecillian Forest once before the veil fell, definitely wasn’t as big as it is now.”

“How so?”

“Well…tree trunks generally didn’t beat me in the height department.”

Abelas and Ramia both paused at said tree that stood in their way, an apparatus in place to ease them over. It wasn’t a joke when they had told him this project was Ramia’s ‘baby’ as they put it. At first simply a place to excavate and see what the land had to teach, but with signs that one of the seals holding the Evanuris lay dormant somewhere in this forest the elvhen had to intervene.

Ramia didn’t seem troubled at the thought, granted, their relationship had taken more pleasant turns. And after the affirmation in the library, they only grew closer. So any chance for them to work alone together, away from prying eyes was welcomed.

With the large natural infrastructures of the Brecillian, privately was certainly not an issue. But Abelas also wanted to remain cautious. Which Evanuris exactly lay here still unknown to them.

“Don’t most things beat you in the height department?” Abelas’ tease was met with a playful shove, before Ramia was ascending the ladder. “Be careful please.”

“I’m always careful!”

Abelas waited until he hears her rather loud landing before making his way over to join her, he gives a small nod to the guard on post.

“Keep watch, if we are not back within a day send reinforcements.”

“Yeah Bran! Untouched territory past this tree!” Ramia’s voice bellows from the other side, interrupting him.

Abelas can’t help hiding his grin, amused at the abrasive enthusiasm Ramia takes in this excavation. There is an odd silence that follows however, and when he finally reaches her she is staring ahead. Awe and curiosity, she looks ahead, but there is fear there too. When he stares ahead he sees why, the forest seems, no-it is without doubt ten times larger than is ever was before.

The trees reach to the skies like giants, shadowing what little sunlight can seep through. There is something like the sound of distant thunder, accompanied by slow moving shadows. The beasts of this forest having grown just as much.

Abelas is about to move forward when Ramia stops him, and they realise they stand upon one of the many tree trunks that twist and turn in and out of the earth. Had he kept walking, Abelas imagines his descent into the ground would not end well. They were very high up, and further investigation would require the upmost caution.

“Abelas…”

“Yes Ramia…”

An indistinguishable whine is her only response; he gives her shoulder a squeeze before they begin to venture off.

“Come, let us make camp and plan our first steps, I will commune with the spirits here and see what they reveal.”

They had made very little progress, less than they had hoped. The spirits of this forest were welcoming, finally at peace to have balanced restored after the confinement the veil had brought. But they also spoke with warnings dancing on their tones, of the great beasts that roamed. Harmless, as long as those like himself and Ramia stay clear of the ruins. They spoke of the beasts protecting that which laid beneath the earth, deep in the bowls of the ruins. Dormant, yet simultaneously calling to be freed.

He had no doubts it was one of the Evanuris, and with her affinity for beasts and monsters, Abelas was certain it was Ghila’nain.

“Abelas, are you hungry?”

He wasn’t, he did not require sustenance the way she did, at least the way she used to. Ramia was immortal now, the fade itself provided everything she needed. The habit however, was probably not as simple to curb, and there was something to be enjoyed in the practice.

“You feel confident eating anything in this forest do you?” He jested.

“Jokes on you, I brought rations,” she stuck her tongue out at him, handing him her pre-made meal. “Your welcome.”

“I would starve without you.”

“Haha, sarcasm, haven’t had you try that one yet.”

“The last time I withheld my sarcasm you had genuine concern for my wellbeing.”

“Hah, true!”

* * *

Abelas was glad Ramia had brought a tent, he would be lying if his new position hadn’t made him too comfortable with four walls and a decent bed. Even when he had demanded humble quarters back in Arlathan his rooms were still much larger than what he was accustomed to.

Going from a monastery to grand estates was an old transition.

“Do you think we’ll be safe?”

“I’ve set wards, if anything does happen we’ll know.”

Abelas is reminded of their current circumstances, of their temporary privacy. Despite himself he is the first one to remind them both, to place his hand against her own. Pressing his lips to the corner of her own, slow, tentative. Lingering for a moment longer than he should.

He sees her pull her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes peering up at him. She is shy, and reluctant to take the bait, uncharacteristic of her.

He pulls back a bit further, but his hand comes to cup her cheek, to grab her attention and pull her from whatever anxieties are plaguing her mind. Whatever is holding her back, because he knows she wanted this chance alone just as much as he did.

“Realising I am serious about this Ramia? Does it surprise you?”

“A little.”

Abelas sit cross legged, gesturing for her to approach him and nestle herself on his lap. Taking her hand and rubbing his thumb along the knuckles. “Don’t,” he tells her, “even if it must remain between us, do not doubt me.” His hand rest against her hips, his forehead pressing again hers.

It was a comfort, her presence. He had been alone for so long, had resigned himself to that fate until he had met her. Finding a friend, a lover now, he hoped it would reach that.

“I’ve never really been with anyone, not properly…no one sticks around.”

Her father.

Solas.

Her mother was gone for a time, she returned but…Ramia would never forget saying goodbye with tears falling and her heart filled to burst with ache when her mother left for the conclave. Never to be seen for three years.

Ramia realised Abelas hadn’t moved, still holding her and heads pressed together. Probably for the best, a bubbling ache filling in her stomach and reaching her chest.

“It’s alright if you decide you don’t want me anymore, I’ll understand…”

Ramia didn’t realise she was crying until she felt the edge of Abelas’ palm brush against her eye. He cups her face, makes her look at him and feels something break inside him. He was foolish to think she could have climbed from the fire unscathed. When Ramia had confided in him the tales of her past she had described them in such a nonchalant matter, despite the heaviness of it all. Like they never truly left their mark.

But they had, and with it she feared one day he would leave her.

Words were meaningless, he kisses her harder than he ever has. She presses back on impulse, accustomed only to his gentleness.

“I will never leave you if I can help it Ramia, I grow to care for you more and more as we spend more time together. Vhenan.”

He doesn’t share her wide-eyed gaze but he is just as surprised when the endearment escapes him. His arms embrace her, her face buried in his neck. Hands clutch when he feels her boldness return, kisses hastily planting their way up his neck, a shiver running up his spine when she sets her sights and claims his ear.

“You wish to misbehave tonight.”

Warmth fills his heart when their faces meet at she has that cheeky smile again, her mood brightening gradually. As does his curiosity, fingers deftly unlacing the ties that bind her shirt firmly into place.

Ramia stops him, her face reddening and her lips pursed, Abelas’ chuckle comes out a hum as he rests against her collar. Finger twirling a single lacing around, standing his ground on what he sought.

“We could literally do a million other things!” Her blush only deepens at the outburst, a small delighted whimper when she looks down to find him part the shirt to reveal the space between her breasts. His finger gliding up again to feel the softness of the skin there, at the rise and fall her chest as her breaths deepen.

“I know you wear padding,” Abelas omits, she stiffens, Ramia unknowing of her secret obvious to him. “You do not need to be embarrassed my heart,” he looks into her eyes for approval before her removes them. “You also do not need them.”

“Hah, I’ll be the judge of that,” Ramia hums, quietly delighting in the way Abelas takes his time. Not exposing what he wanted straight away, but running his palm from collar bone and down the valley between her breasts again. Till her shirt is parting ever wider, and he uses both hands to slowly brush the clothing past her shoulders, only until she is bared before him.

“Why are you even bothering?” Ramia sucks in a breath as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. She feels his breath on her breast, “It’s not like you can do anything with them!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No….?”

“No?”

“No.”

“You will need to be specific Ramia.”

“Ugh, no I don’t want you to stop. Ah!”

His fingers are cold on her skin, only made obvious now when he takes the plump peak between his thumb and finger. Kissing and lavishing his attentions along her neck.

“I assume this is what you had in mind when we finally got alone hmm?”

Ramia can’t help but be confused by the love and attention he gives her breasts, guessing that the sentinel must have a particular enjoyment for them regardless how small or big they are. It seems to do the trick and excite her, his hands never staying idle and she finds it both thrilling and frustrating all at once as heat and need build up where she wants him to touch her most.

She can’t help but giggle “yeah,” his lips finding a ticklish spot along her neck, her laughter only seems to urge him on, and she feels the rumbling of his own quiet laughter. “I did have other things in mind though.” she places his hand on her inner thigh for emphasis.

“Not here my love,” Abelas answers, finishing with a chaste kiss as he rights her clothes. His smile widens at Ramia’s frustrated pout. He tries to kiss her again but he meets her jaw instead and he gives her a chiding look for the small playful defiance. “Don’t be like that Rami.”

“Shush, you’ve disappointed me,” She closes her eyes as if to ignore him. “You can’t call me Rami, and no more smooches if you’re gonna get me all hot and bothered and not follow through.”

“Ah I see…”

Abelas nuzzles the space between her lobe and neck, “I thought you the romantic, preferring something more lavish than a tacky tent in a cold damp forest.”

He adores the way it’s so easy to break the silent treatment or disappointment from her. How she slowly grins and wraps her arms around his neck and gifts him her love with peppered kisses to his lips. Asking him to elaborate on this promise. It relieves an ache in his heart he had not known was there until he wanted her.

But he knows now she has aches of her own she kept locked away. That is why he holds her tighter, and when they kiss he lingers just little bit more longer. Anything and everything he can do to show her he loves her, that he will not abandon her.

Because he wants her just as much if not more.


	5. Forgiving Takes Time

From what Solas was told Moro was aware of her daughter’s frequent visits for leisure with him. She would come to Elvhenan’s capital where he resided, and they would have tea. Sometimes with more company such as Briala or one of his own.

Whether Moro approved or not was another matter, but he was glad she didn’t deter or forbid Ramia from seeing him. He enjoyed her visits immensely, it had been a long time since he ever looked forward to anything. He remembers the heavy hard hitting feeling of disappointment that one time she had cancelled. Solas was afraid at any moment he could ruin the healing bond.

“How is she? Your mother I mean.”

Ramia notices the way Solas averts his gaze as he asks the question. He always asks, at some point during their time together he will question her mother’s wellbeing and focus his attention on anything he can. So long as he can avoid Ramia’s gaze.

“You could ask her yourself y’know, don’t you both have one of those crystal things?”

“We do but…I have made it a point to keep those conversations on work.”

They fall into an awkward silence, Solas stirs the tea beside him well after the honey has dissolved.

“I want to fix it.”

“You can’t fix things if you don’t speak to her.”

“You do not hear the way she speaks with me da’len, I feel we are beyond hope…”

Ramia sighs, she places her tea cup more harshly than she intended and turns to face him fully. Solas stands straight as he prepares for an earful but is met only with a look one would give a smart-mouthed child.

“Hahren, do you remember during the Inquisition when you upset mama because you were obnoxiously impatient with her reading speed and pretty much lack of interest in books?”

“…yes?” He did remember, guilt fuelled the memory. The scene clearer in his mind when the altercation had gotten heated, resulting in Moro withdrawing from him entirely. He had hurt her deeply that day.

“And when you found out from Thom and Varric that it was because she couldn’t read without aid? And you kept apologising and apologising and she wouldn’t budge?”

“…Yes…”

“Do you remember how you fixed that situation?”

He did, Varric had spoken of contacts that could procure him spectacles that would aid Moro immensely. Solas remembered approaching a grouchy woman, at work on letters. Saw the way she squinted and rubbed at her temples with frustration on the simple task of reading and writing letters. Remembered sitting beside her and smiling unabashedly past her glares before presenting her gifted apology.

Granted she had told him to go away at once, but he had also seen never seen her without them within Skyhold after that. And over time they had made up, and leisure reading had become a much more enjoyable endeavour thereafter.

“I do remember.”

“Yes well! Then you know for mama, actions speak louder than words. You need to show her you’re sorry and that you’re trying to be better. Not tell her.”

* * *

“And who’s idea was it to approve eight out of ten of my demands in return for access to the Brecillian Forest?”

“It was a joint decision Moro; I may have the last say but I must still take into account the opinions of the collective.”

“Mhm.”

“There have been rumours of…stirrings within those woods…if any of the Evanuris break their bonds we must be prepared. Fereldan will be vulnerable without our influence.”

Solas was reciting every reason he could muster to the woman. The other members of the council smiling and nodding eagerly in agreement in hopes it would appease the woman. But she saw the damping skin of their brows, how none look her directly in the eye. Although aside from Samran that last one wasn’t anything new.

Her eyes land back on Solas, narrowing in on him. Suspicious.

“What are you up to?”

“I assure you Moro there is no need for suspicion, allowing the Circle access to the Vir Dirthara and other such libraries will be beneficial on both sides.” Solas assured, “I am serious when I tell you I will rectify…everything.”

Moro scoffs. “Only time will tell.”

“And that is all I ask of you. Time.”

* * *

A very, very long time. Evidently.

It took a lot of coaxing before Solas drummed up the courage to invite Moro for a visit, outside of work. As he prepared he wondered if he had spoken out of turn, if perhaps it was too soon and he may have caused her offense.

“Gods Solas enough already, the worst that will happen is that she does not show and you can both continue your awkward farce.”

Solas winced slightly at Abelas’ words, but he could not blame the man. It seemed the strain between Solas and Moro had begun to take more of a toll on the man. And his friendship with Ramia may have given him more insight into more frustration. 

* * *

“What is this?”

“A gift milady, from Solas.”

The servant winced at how the Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed and face set into stern suspicion. The elf who had delivered the large wooden box stood awkwardly before Moro and her daughter.

“Do you know what is inside?” She asks the courier.

“No my lady, Fen’harel has been exceptionally private in this, he sends his best intentions however.” The courier bends at the waist.

“He still has people calling him Dread Wolf that does he?” Moro asks blandly as she unclasps the metal holding the lid of the box in place.

“Not of his choice, but the habit is hard to break.”

Moro opens the box, brows furrowing as she pulls out the long heavy fabric within. Ramia hums in interest as her mother passes it along to pull more of it from the box, small petals of herbs scattered the gift. A waft of minty aroma filling their noses.

“It’s a scarf.” Moro comments in a matter of fact manner, the courier coughs awkwardly at her lack of interest.

“It’s a bit like the ones you use for your hair mama, see?” Ramia seems much more interested as she tries to lighten her mother’s frown. “And it’s gold!”

“It’s imitating the colour of gold love, and from the poor stitching it makes me wonder who the in the void made the damn thing.”

“Mama…”

Moro continues to scrutinise as Ramia takes the box from her.

“Oooh, he put a letter too.” Moro sighs as she takes the letter, rips open the envelope with glasses on hand to read the contents.

“What does it say?”

“Mmm…”

“What? What did he say?”

“That son of a bitch.”

“What?! What did he say?!”

“He’s inviting me for tea.”

“…ok…?”

“I should ask this messenger to shove that gift up his arse, not that the bastard would complain.”

“Ok that’s more than I need to know about him…”

Moro stood, pacing back and forth as she mulled over the content of the letter, unaware of Ramia’s nosy fingers taking hold of the paper and reading it for herself.

“Geez I didn’t realise how dramatic he is…” Ramia mused as she read the letter. “Ok so Solas is basically asking you to have tea, is that a bad thing?”

“Ramia.”

“Mama,” Ramia released a sharp breath, rising to join her mother by one of the open windows and pointing at the door for the messenger to leave. “It’s been what? A century since the alliance? You’ve stopped going at each other’s throats and actually get on once in a blue moon.” Ramia saw the way her mother’s hands trembled and stilled them with one of her own. “This shouldn’t even be about whether you can still love him or not, he hurt you and this is a chance to really talk to him about what it’s done to you. You both won’t get anywhere until you do.”

“He won’t change, he will an excuse, there will always be excuses.”

“He’s made sure his people didn’t become tyrants again, we are surviving with his help and he listens to your advice and warnings without fussing…most of the time. I really do think he’s trying…and I want you to be happy mama, please consider going.”

* * *

Solas sits alone on a patio, legs crossed over each other as his foot bobs rapidly with his agitation. The sound of feet has him stand to attention, his eyes widen and hands clench as he stares at the Inquisitor. She is dressed modestly, she is without her usual wrap and for the first time he feels he sees her. Hair greyed in places, lines framing her eyes noticeable.

She is still beautiful, but he knows saying as much would probably not end well.

“You came.”

Moro is silent as she looks at him before slowly approaching and seating herself down. Her eyes taking in the garden. Solas is unsure what to say, instead opts for sitting in the seat beside hers, a table between them.

Under past circumstances this prolonged silence would have been a comfort, an enjoyment of silent company and nothing more. But they were in the present, and Solas had done so much to hurt her that he was unsure he was capable of forgiveness.

But she had agreed to come, and wasn’t there room for hope with that in mind?

“The…journey must have been long for you.” he stammered. His hands reach for the pot of tea, but he feels Moro’s fingers halt him. His hands pressed between her own and the pot, after a moment she retreats, and returns to her previous position. Face still turned towards the garden, flowers rustling as the wind bellows through. It would get cold soon.

Solas takes the hint and relents, abandoning the tea and sitting beside her in silence.

It is almost an hour when she rises, she reveals the wooden box he had initially gifted her and places it on the table beside them.

Without a word she leaves.

When Solas opens the box he finds nothing inside.

 


	6. And a little bit more time

Solas finds himself once again in the gardens, the chair beside him is vacant, but he sees ahead that Moro had arrived before him. She stands amidst the flowers; one is plucked from its stem as she cradles the bud in her hand. Her face in a calm reverie, switching for but a moment when she hears his approach.

“You like the gardens.”

“I like many things Solas, you know that well enough.”

It is a strange silence, the wind brushings through the trees and the blades of grass is the only sounds to be heard. It has been the sole thing to occur between them in all of their encounters, and Solas is unsure how much longer he can bear it.

“Speak to me vhenan.”

“Do not call me that Solas, you cannot view me as such after everything you have done.”

“I want to fix it, all of it. I want you to forgive me, tell me please! How can I do that?”

Moro looked at him, and it seemed the silence had choked the last of her resolve out. Her eyes burning into his.

“I don’t know Solas! I don’t know how to forgive you!” The bid in her hand is crushed in her fingers, Moro pulls a sharp breath. Like it was an alive delicate thing she had just killed. Solas tries to reach out to her but she recoils.

“Moro…”

“You think I am simply petty don’t you? I…I bared myself open to Solas, you knew who you were the entire time. You knew we were doomed from the start but you let it happen anyway…”

Tears brimmed at her eyes, hands clenched and jaw tight as everything she had to hold at bay as the world collapsed around her came pouring forth.

“You know what hurts the most Solas? Aside from letting you into my daughter’s life, abandoning her and endangering her, crippling me, your plans that basically said I wasn’t good enough?”

Solas stared back with his own tear stained eyes, silent as he refused to speak.

“I was perfectly content to abandon love and all those fanciful ideas of finding another. I spent so many years after Arlen death crafting myself, to protect myself. But you came along, you made me bare my heart out and left it in the cold. I was whole before I met you. I may have been cracked and damaged, but I was still whole!!!”

A large heaving sob escaped her like a burst dam, her hands covering her face to shield her. Anything that could keep her from having to look at him.

“I was whole…”


	7. How Do We Move Forward?

“A witness says you and Solas were talking, and you actually laughed!”

Moro books down the book she was reading, slowly removing her glasses and staring straight into her daughter’s eyes.

“Where did you hear this?”

Ramia smiled, ignoring her mother’s question and cuddling up beside her, grabbing her mother’s arm to put around her shoulder.

“Is it true?”

“He said something funny and I laughed, am I not allowed to laugh when I find something funny?”

Moro knew how defensive she was sounding, but she couldn’t stop herself before the words came out. It was no secret that the rift between her and Solas had slowly begun to mend. It was a torturous process for the elf, but Solas had seemed determined to see this through.

Whether she would allow the mending to go beyond friendship she was still unsure of, the thought frightened her. Whether it was something Solas wanted was unknown to her, the man seemed determined to win her back in some fashion or another. She remembers the way his eyes brightened and that ridiculous smile of his grew when she had taken amusement in his witty retort about one of the council members.

It all still seemed too fast for her.

Ramia seemed hopeful for…something.

 _If there’s something to be salvaged, you should go for it_ her daughter had said. Moro didn’t want to dismiss what Ramia said out of some naivety, since she had suffered just as much as she had. But Ramia always concentrated more on what she wanted than what she needed. Moro couldn’t deny her daughter the chance to fix her own relationship with Solas, to gain back that paternal figure, no matter how terrified she was that Solas would hurt her again.

It seemed to go well for the most part, but Moro had never been quick to trust anyone, or expect the best from them.

“I’m just glad you guys are getting somewhere, you’re seeing each other more often,” Ramia paused as if to be mindful of what she chose to say. “I know there’s still so much that needs to be fixed, but you know I want this for you and not for him right? I know you miss him, and I wouldn’t encourage you to fix your relationship if I didn’t think it would help you.”

Moro smiles, “I know,” pulls Ramia in an embrace, trying to ignore how much she longs to do so with both hands.  “I just don’t know if I could handle being disappointed again.”

* * *

“I thought we would do something different today.”

Moro is accustomed to crowds but she still loathes them. A chance to see the one of the bustling market places within Arlathan however, wasn’t an opportunity that presented itself often. The one Solas had decided to take her two was within the city districts that was a gathering for all, with elves, humans, dwarves and even Qunari merchants all over. Selling or buying wares.

It had been one of the first proposals made, a symbol of making the future better and brighter for everyone. She was glad to see it with her own eyes, children playing by fountains and all sorts just generally enjoying a peaceful but lively afternoon.

“I haven’t been to a market like this since I was a girl, although I was too short at the time to actually see anything. I spent most of the time grumbling to myself about the iron grip my mother or brother would have on my hand.” Moro smiles, melancholy in her eyes.

The sight doesn’t go unnoticed by Solas. “How is your brother?” He asks, and he hopes he does not tread on a sensitive topic. But the sadness fades from her a fraction at the question, and she wraps her shawl tighter around her.

“Pharaan is well, him and his man are still running their Circle, and they intend to marry in the Summer.”

“I am glad to hear it; I regret not making the most of what little time he spent at Skyhold during the Inquisition. I did not get to know him as well as I should have.”

“It was a strange time for all of us, at the time I still had to wrap my head around the idea that I still had a brother, alive.”

Solas hums in understanding, his eyes catching the sight of a trinket stand.

“I do not see him as often as I would like, but he is as private as I am, if a tad more on the reclusive side.”

“I suppose life at the Circle does that to a man.”

“I suppose, he was always quiet, even when we were children.”

It was nice, this they could both do, speak about other people. Stir the conversations to anything that wasn’t about them. They decided to find seating in the middle of the square, a vacant bench accompanied by birds. Solas grinned as Moro whistled and earned the small songbird’s trust, the tiny thing stood on her hand and for a while she seemed to have forgotten everything around her. Always had been fond of birds.

“Moro, may I enquire on a sensitive topic?”

“You can, I may or may not react well I’m afraid.”

Solas paused momentarily, pondering on his question. “I know you have not handled immortality or your newfound magic well…I wanted…I wanted to know whether that is still the case.”

The bird had inconveniently chosen to fly away, and without a distraction she was forced to think on the question and provide him an answer. Her hand flexed, she jumped slightly as the little spark of magic that danced on her skin. One leg folding atop the other as she watched people pass by.

“I am coping.”

“That is not an answer.”

Moro remains silent, Ramia’s words echo in her head.

_I know you miss him, and I wouldn’t encourage you to fix your relationship if I didn’t think it would help you_

“It…frightens me…” She confesses, just barely above a whisper. “My dreams are stranger; I worry what happens when I become too angry or upset…” Her hand clasps against the end of her missing arm, tightening her fingers on the bend of her elbow. “The feeling of it missing is more apparent, and bothers me.”

Solas face falls, his eyes glance to her missing arm to her troubled expression. He is hesitant, but takes the chance and takes her hand in his. She still won’t look at him but he treasures the lack of resistance or the usually jolt to pull away from him.

“I am sorry…”

“You’re always sorry…”

It is odd, to have people laughing and joyous around them as they sit together in this impasse. The want to move forward but unsure how to properly proceed despite their progress. They are surprised people do not take notice of the sadness that seems to feel suffocating.

But for a moment Solas’ heart skips a beat, her words follow the feeling of her hand meeting his. Her fingers lacing with his own.

For just a while he can breathe, they both can.


	8. Lack of Subtlety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @sirladysketch answered your question “Last day of freedom before fics etc become less frequent. What should…”
> 
> Can we please have insight into what Ramia thought when she first saw the glorious gilded thighs of Babelas?

Briala watched Ramia adjust her dress for what felt like the hundredth time, but it only made her fonder of the girl. She had not expected the Inquisitor to name a successor, let alone to announce it to be her daughter. But when Briala would met with Moro a scant few days before now she could understand why, the look of one tired of fighting wars and dabbling in politics was something she knew all too well.

Ramia was a sweet girl, but Briala was unsure if this was a good fit for her. Moro had done well to keep the girl safe and out of the thick of it when it came to politics, wanting the girl to concentrate more on her studies and magic. She lived better than most, but was aware of it and never spoke ignorantly or out of turn.

The girl had a look to her though, like she could be easily manipulated. When Briala brought up this concern Moro had only laughed and told Briala not to worry.

So she didn’t, or at least tried to. It helped that Ramia was enthusiastic, even if her nervousness was as plain as day.

“So who’s going to be there?”

Briala adjusted a curl that had loosened from her up do, “all of them.” She laughed when Ramia’s eyes widened and she sighed aloud. “Don’t be so shy, I’ll be doing most of the talking after all. All I want today is for you to smile and nod, your mother says you’re a good judge of character, I want you to point out any members of Solas’ council you think will give us a hard time.”

“Ok, I think I can do that.”

When they had finally arrived Samran was there to greet them, he was at first surprised when he saw Ramia and her lack of any resemblance to her mother. But she was assured in the knowledge that Solas had spoken well of her, and the senior council member welcomed her with open arms.

“Goody, he’s friendly.”

Samran laughed, squeezing Ramia’s hands in his before leading them to the Vir Dirthara were Solas had organised this meeting.

“The repairs in Skyhold are still ongoing since your mother’s…last visit, I apologise. I know the journey must have been much longer and much more tiring.”

The moment they came to view Solas was on his feet and greeting them, a firm handshake for Briala, and gentle squeeze for Ramia as he pulled her in.

“She is simply observing today.” Briala interjected.

“Of course, come we’ve already been looking into various sights for excavation.”

Briala had gotten straight to business, while Ramia took note, scribbling names of each council member with a badly drawn depiction to go with it. All seemed to be engaged in the subject except for one. He was ancient, just like the rest of them, hair styled with an undercut while the remaining white silken strands fell loose across one shoulder.

He was writing accounts of his own, and she saw every now and then Solas would ask him a question with an annoyed frown. The elf didn’t seem intimidated by the Dread Wolf, challenging the man with an annoyed glare of his own before addressing everyone briefly before returning to his work.

And every time his face rose into view Ramia was struck still.

It was hard after that, to pay attention and get everything discussed in the meeting written down. Ramia found herself stealing glances towards ‘Abelas’ every chance she could, completely distracted and enamoured by his looks.

When the meeting came to a break she was immediately scooting closer to Briala and whispers, “who is that exactly?” she asks and glance in Abelas’ direction.

“That is Abelas, a sentinel, but he works as Solas’ right hand now.”

A silence falls over the two women, Briala looks from the miserable faced sentinel to the sparkled glow in Ramia’s eyes. Eyes narrowing and head shrugging.

“No.”

Ramia’s smile stretches from ear to ear, a light dusting of red aglow on her cheeks.

“No, you two have to work together.” Briala chided, but realised she’d only made Ramia bolder. “I swear to the maker…” Briala pinched the bridge of her nose and when she opened her eyes Ramia had disappeared from her seat, a quick glance confirmed her worry and she groaned at the girl as she sat beside the sentinel, interrupting him from his work and undeterred by the hard cold stare that was so apparent in all the man’s interactions.

Ramia only smiled brighter at him, introducing herself with ridiculous enthusiasm and uninterested in anything else.

“Moro is not going to be happy about this…”


	9. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro finds out about her daughter and Abelas' shenanigans.
> 
> She's not happy...

People were jumping out of Moro’s way as she charged down the hall, her anger carrying in every step. No one dared to get in her way.

Saoren and Solas where seated together, their attention drawn away to meet the Inquisitor icy stare. Jaw tight and looking ready to tear someone’s head off. Both men had the same thought in mind, and that was what Solas had done to piss her off now.

“Where is he?” Moro seethed, nails digging into the wood of the table.

Solas paused, blinked a few times before he looked to Saoren in confusion.

“…who?”

“Abelas.”

“Oh,” there is relief in Solas voice, and he points towards the west wing with a wave of his hand. “He said he was holding a meeting with some the nobility to deal with the Brecillian project, I doubt it has ended but-”

Moro is gone before he even finishes. Saoren watches her leave and gives low whistle, putting down his documents to address the strange event that had just occurred. When he looks at Solas his attention is back on his book, utterly content, like the exchange hadn’t even occurred.

“Do you not think we should go after her?”

“Nope.”

“You are not even curious about what has our lady so furious and ready to set this entire fortress alight?”

“Nope.”

“Is this because she isn’t angry at you for once?”

“Mmmmhm.”

Saoren laughs, shaking his head as he stares up towards the ceiling, “no doubting she has caught wise to out sentinel and her little madam’s affair.”

Solas laughs along, but as the words sink in the smile falls and his widen as he drops the book that had been resting in his lap.

“What?!”

* * *

When Moro reaches the door she can hear voices on the other side, mainly Abelas’ and it makes her blood boil.

When one of Briala’ spies had informed her of what she had found, the sentinel sneaking into the guest room Ramia occupied when she stayed in Arlathan she had lost it. She wasn’t proud of herself, for how she conducted her confrontation with Ramia on the matter.

Making Ramia cry was never something Moro had ever wanted.

But this was Abelas, a man who had once sneered and cast her people as shadows, who stood as Solas right hand. A man whose alliance she still didn’t fully trust. She couldn’t see this as anything more than manipulation, an attempt to usurp them should the opportunity ever arise.

She wouldn’t let that happen to her daughter, even if the damage had already been done she would end this. She was surprised the sentinel would resort to such matters to undermine her and Briala’s work.

Moro composed herself as much as she could before inviting herself into the room, a smile on her face that lacked any true warmth greeting the nobles in the room, Abelas’ back to her as he continued to speak. Seemingly unaware she had entered the room.

Moro walked at a leisurely pace till she came to stand beside the sentinel, he seemed to regard her presence with a simple turn of his gaze, face facing at the map before him. The nobles, humans and dwarfs stared awkwardly at the display before them. The disdain and tension between the two elves thick as tar.

“Abelas.”

“Inquisitor.”

There was a pause that lingered in the air, and Moro took that pause to pull the map away from him, demanding his attention.

“I would like to speak with you, if you could.”

“As you can see Inquisitor I am quite busy.”

Moro laughs, and while he doesn’t show it, it unsettles him, makes him suspicious of what exactly Moro wants from him. The woman despises him, although after much reflection he cannot blame her. His words again her all those years ago had been cruel and he had been too proud to apologise and mend the damage he had done.

But he also found the woman incredibly irritating, but he had promised Ramia he would show her mother more respect. His attitude was improper now that he was courting her daughter, even if it was in secret.

Yet he continued to stand in silence, hoping the Inquisitor would take a hint and seek him out later.

“It’s so funny…how you ancients do not see us as people, yet there certainly isn’t an issue when you need someone to warm your bed.”

Abelas stared blankly ahead, those words meaningless to everyone present but him. With that simple, vague declaration he knew all too well why Moro had sought him out.

He gives a long audible sigh before straightening up and turning to leave the room.

“If you’ll excuse me…” he says as he follows Moro out the room.

* * *

They walk for some time, till they find the old gardens, the only part of the fortress Solas had yet to renovate. He knows why she wishes to speak with him, he sits on what remains of a bench so as to be at better height with her, ready to listen.

She doesn’t speak straight away, and Abelas is not quick enough to react as he feels an acute sting as he his head is driving harshly to his left. Moro having backhanded him, his hand coming to clutch his jaw, his hand stained slightly with blood. The ring on her finger the culprit as she pulls it off as she cleans it.

There is nothing but disdain oozing from the Inquisitor, and despite the assault Abelas feels rather calm.

“I imagine you’ve wanted to do that for some time.”

“Be quiet.”

He bit back his response, now wasn’t the time for smart remarks or making Moro more furious than she already was.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Hmm? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I did not even predict it happening in the first place, let alone do it out of spite towards you.”

“I’m going to cut this very short Abelas, because frankly this is nothing more than some slimy attempt of using my daughter’s naivety for whatever means you want. This ends, now.”

The finality and solidity that she declares this is a punch to gut for Abelas, Moro would not listen to anything he had to say. That there was no dishonesty to his affections for Ramia, he loved her, but it seemed useless to argue.

“I do not want you anywhere near Ramia, do not speak to her or even look at her.”

“And does Ramia, a grown woman I might add, have any say in this matter?”

His response is the wrong one, and there is a fire in Moro eyes as a sharp finger is pointed in his direction.

“Do not fucking test me Abelas!” She scoffs, her mouth curling into a sneer, “what? Am I supposed to believe this is honest? Slinking to her rooms at night, is that honest? Is bedding my daughter behind my back how the great elvhen court? Where is your shame?!”

Moro spits at the ground in disgust, and she feels some sense of relief to see at least the guilt in his eyes. Abelas took a deep breath, rising to his feet. He raises a hand hesitantly, contemplating whether his next choice of action is wise but he takes the plunge, taking hold of Moro’s hand. Close to the wrist, and avoiding her gaze.

“Ir abelas Lavellan…I had known my actions were improper but was compelled by your daughter’s insistence.” Abelas doesn’t stop her from pulling her hand away. “And I would not see it end.”

Moro’s eyes narrow, heading slowly shaking, “don’t…”

Abelas meets her gaze, “I love her.”

“You apologise and lie in the same breath,” Moro whispers in a harsh breath before turning from him. “Go, I am done.”

“Inquisitor.”

“Go! My warning still stands; you will stay away from her.”


	10. Pep-Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is an awkward dad when it comes to comforting a sad Ramia

“Hahren! Stop running!”

“I am not running, I am walking, briskly.”

“Stop!”

The minute Ramia had stomped into the Vir Dirthara Solas knew it wasn’t going to be good. But he’d be damned if he got involved in this mess. He felt for Ramia and Abelas both, truly, although he was mostly still trying to process the fact that the two had been having a secret affair right under everyone’s nose.

The two were such an odd pair.

“Ramia please, I have had to spend the last month convincing your mother I had nothing to do with this! That I didn’t even know about it, please…”

“Hahren…”

She’s giving him that look, he knows. She had done it as a child and she still managed to maintain it to this day, wide eyes on the verge of tears. He scolds himself but looks down to meet her and his resolve crumbles, and then he realises she isn’t here to interrogate him, but just to talk. Ramia is fumbling with her skirts and fighting back tears she had probably avoided shedding for god knows how long now. Solas ushers her to a quiet corner of the library by the hand, when they’re alone she starts pull at her clothes more as she thinks on what to say.

“Where is he? Can I see him?”

“I do not think that would be wise da’len.”

“But…” She pulls a breath, “he’s not even trying. He can’t do what he did, get a yelled at then stop seeing me just like that!”

“What he…did?”

“It.”

“…It…?”

“It Solas, y’know…eugh! Why are you so dopey?! **It**.”

“Oh…oh! **Oh** …ooh…” Solas frowns, he was usually good with these things. He puts an arm around her shoulders, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

“He told me loved me…”

“He did?” Solas coos, surprise lighting his eyes and his heart warming at the news. “Abelas has come a long way.”

“Solas pay attention!”

“You are right, sorry,” he clears his throat. “Things are very difficult right now, your mother has made it very clear how she feels about this and I feel Abelas is finally taking Moro seriously. He will not anger her further…even if it means enduring this temporary separation, at least until he can mend the strain in his relationship with Moro.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Solas is silent, he has no answer.

“He’s being a prick.” Ramia mutters under her breath.

“Come now, don’t start that. Abelas has been…miserable, now that I think back. He misses you terribly, I have no doubt of that.”

Ramia scoffs, “well he sure isn’t acting like he does.”

“What do you want him to do Ramia? Say ‘to the void with your mother vhenan!’, come gallivanting and acting like the approval of woman you care and respect isn’t important?”

Ramia pouts, side-eyeing Solas as she shuffles her feet.

“Wouldn’t kill em…”

“Fenehidis girl, you are worse than Moro sometimes…”

Ramia ignores the remark and instead is taking Solas’ hands in hers with a pleading look. “Won’t you talk to him Solas, I just…it isn’t fair, I just want to talk to him, alone. Please.”

“What? No! What if your mother finds out?!”

Suddenly the girl is bursting into tears, hands rubbing in a futile effort to stem the flow.

“No, no, no don’t cry,” Solas is brushing away at her eyes with a thumb, cupping her cheeks and aching for the heartbreak she is enduring. Abelas had been content to suffer in silence where Ramia’s sadness was laid bare for all to see. “Please don’t cry…”

Solas felt his resolve crumbling as her tears seemed unending, it had been at least a month since the confrontation between Abelas and Moro, a long enough time in Ramia’s books. He hated seeing Ramia so distraught, he had promised he would do right by her all those years ago when she had first shown up at his door after the war.

The possibility of sneaking the two love-sick birds away wasn’t entirely impossible. And Ramia did deserve comfort and an explanation from Abelas himself.

He could do this one thing for her, even at the risk of the Inquisitor finding out.


End file.
